


The Perfect Gift

by terreisa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M, Secret Santa, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21950938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terreisa/pseuds/terreisa
Summary: Emma Swan has gotten away with trading out her pick for Secret Santa for three years. When she’s finally forced to keep the first name she pulls from the Santa hat it happens to be Killian Jones, the one person in the office that irritates her to no end.  She makes it her mission to find him a perfect gift and ends up discovering there’s more to the office Casanova than she’d ever suspected.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 135





	The Perfect Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how newspaper publishing works and so I've tailored it to fit this story. Sorry, not sorry for all mistakes made because of that.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me. Let me pick again!”

Emma Swan groaned as her friend and co-worker Mary Margaret twisted at the waist so the Santa hat in her hands was well out of her reach.

“No. I’ve let you, and only you by the way, re-pick for the past three years,” Mary Margaret said pointedly, raising her brow at her. “It’s not fair to the others who actually follow the rules of Secret Santa.”

“Rules you came up with,” Emma grumbled, scowling down at the name on the slip of paper in her hands.

“It can’t be that bad-” Mary Margaret sighed, “Zelena was transferred and Walsh was fired so there’s really no one truly terrible participating this year.”

“I think I’d prefer them over the one I did get. Forget the fact that I can’t stand him, I don’t know what the hell to get him!”

“Who-” Mary Margaret began before her eyes widened and a pleased smile unfurled on her face, “You know exactly what he wants and it won’t even cost you twenty-five dollars.”

“Mary Margaret!” Emma hissed, embarrassed and shocked that her normally prim and proper friend went straight for an innuendo. “Gross.”

“Oh, come on, it’s no secret that Killian has had a crush on you from the moment he stepped foot in this office.”

Emma rolled her eyes at the familiar and franky ridiculous refrain. Killian Jones was a well known film critic from England that had been hired two years before in an effort by the higher ups to expand their newspaper’s readership. When he had walked in on his first day, with artfully tousled inky black hair, ocean blue eyes glittering with excitement, and tailored clothes that showed off a trim and toned physique, nearly every single woman in the office had attempted to help him set up his desk. Emma, on the other hand, had appreciated the new eye candy and then returned her attention to the article she had been working on at the time.

She figured that it was her indifference that had Killian asking her later that day if she’d wanted to get coffee with him. Of course, after watching him flirt and banter with all the _helpful_ women in the office all morning she’d given him a withering look and a resounding no. She’d been burned badly before by interoffice dating and she wasn’t looking for a repeat performance, let alone dealing with a no shame lothario. He had merely given her a puzzled smile and wished her a good day before retreating to his desk. What followed was a year of watching him pull the same tricks with every available woman in the building while still brushing him off every few weeks. As glad as she was that she hadn’t fallen for any of his pretenses there was an annoying stab of something in her gut whenever he walked someone new out the door with his hand low on their back.

Things had only taken a turn for the worse when Emma had been promoted to a full time writing position in the entertainment section. While she’d been vying for a byline in that section for years she almost turned it down knowing she’d have to work almost daily near the man that had become the bane of her existence. There had been an intervention from Mary Margaret, her husband David, and her roommate Belle to convince her to take the position. Even her own boss Tink, editor of the home and garden section, had had to sit her down and talk sense into her. She’d emerged from her office an hour later, cheeks burning with the praise Tink had heaped on her and ears ringing with the passionate arguments she’d made in her favor. By the end of the week she’d moved her things to a desk across the office, one that was unfortunately situated next to Killian’s.

From the moment she’d unpacked her admittedly meager personal belongings Killian had seemed to take it upon himself to get on her last nerve. He was constantly leaning over to ask her inane questions about her day or bore her with random bits of trivia he collected like a magpie with shiny things. Though, she had to admit, it broke up the monotony of trying to think of a new way to write a review for a show that had jumped the shark three seasons before. She also couldn’t find it in her to really complain about the perfectly made cup of coffee that was always annoyingly waiting for her when she was running late, which happened to be almost every day. What really got on her nerves, however, was that his movie reviews were insightful, hilarious, respectful even when he hated the movie, and aligned with her own opinions so perfectly that she’d wondered more than once if he could read her mind.

Of course, everyone in the office saw all of that as tantamount to Killian having feelings for her. Worst of all they saw her laughing at something he said, or drinking the coffee he made, hell even talking civilly with him as her returning those non-existent feelings. When it was really that she just found it easier to go along with his ridiculousness than to wear herself out actively loathing him. She truly couldn’t stand him but no one else seemed to believe her.

“It’s not a crush,” she refuted though there was no heat behind it because she knew Mary Margaret wouldn’t believe her.

“Sure, uh-huh,” Mary Margaret singsonged with a grin. She walked backwards away from her, still grinning, “Twenty-five dollars and we’re doing the exchange at the holiday party. Good luck!”

Emma stuck her tongue out at Mary Margaret as she pivoted on her heel and made her way to the advice column's and editorial’s small cluster of desks. She sighed, slightly glad she’d been cornered in the breakroom instead of at her desk where Killian would have definitely overheard something she didn’t need him to. Then again she wouldn’t have had to once again brush of Mary Margaret’s ridiculous ideas of crushes and might have even stood a chance at getting to repick a name. With a groan of frustration she grabbed her now lukewarm mug of coffee and a random loose granola bar and headed back to her own desk, already mulling over and rejecting ideas for what to get Killian.

Twenty minutes and a thorough search of Killian’s almost too neat desk later and she was still at a loss. She was fiddling with a paperclip to open the locked bottom drawer but knew she had already pushed her luck, time wise. Killian and Robin, the editor of the sports section, always went out for lunch on Wednesdays and were always back in the office by ten till one. Glancing at her watch she saw she had less than five minutes to jimmy the lock, dig through the drawer’s contents, get everything back in order, and be sitting innocently back at her desk. Gritting her teeth in frustration she stood, tossing the half straightened paperclip onto her desk as she looked over the personal effects on his desk once more.

There were a couple framed photos: one was of him and another dark haired, blue eyed man, brother she figured from the resemblance; another was of a woman in soft focus with dark auburn hair that was curled to eighties perfection, his mother probably though Emma could only guess why he chose that photo to put up; the third and final frame wasn’t a photo but his review for the movie The Village, clipped from a newspaper and yellowed with age. Aside from the frames there were only a few knick knacks: a small replica ship’s compass, a Rubick’s cube she’d seen him fiddle with when he was on the phone or stuck on wording for an article, and a potted plant she didn’t know the name of that he had somehow kept alive in their nearly windowless office. The only thing that seemed to give her any real insight was a thick, well worn paperback. She didn’t recognize the author’s name but the title rang a bell and having no other leads she resigned herself to jotting both down on a Post-It as a starting point.

“Interested in the works of Edwin Stephens?”

Emma jumped at the sound of Killian’s voice next to her. She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d sat at her own desk to write the name down before realizing she had to come up with a reason for doing it.

“Uh, looking for present ideas-” she winced at her own stupidity, rushing on hoping he wouldn’t catch on to her, “For David. Mary Margaret’s husband? He’s a big reader. Of everything. Hard to get him something he hasn’t read yet, you know? Thought I’d check if he had any of this Stephens guy’s books the next time I go over for dinner.”

Killian chuckled, settling into his chair, “He might, Stephens isn’t particularly popular but now that his work is finally getting the quality adaptations it deserves more people are starting to read his books.”

“So he’s your favorite author then?” She teased, delighting in the tips of his ears going pink.

“Since I was twelve and a neighbor let me borrow Absolute Bearing. I was a bit young to be reading it but I loved it. Didn’t actually give it back to the neighbor, now that I think about it,” he hummed thoughtfully before shrugging and picking up the book on his desk. “If Mary Margaret’s husband doesn’t have Siege Perilous then it’s the one to get. It’s considered to be one of Stephens’ best, and not only by me I’ll have you know. It’s also going to be a limited series on HBO next fall.”

“Really? ‘Cause it kinda looks like you don’t like it at all,” she deadpanned, eyeing the well bent spine and slight discoloration of the pages.

He rolled his eyes at her, “Ha, bloody, ha, Swan. I’ll have you know this is the third copy I’ve had to buy since I keep rereading it until it falls apart in my hands.”

Surprised by his utter sincerity she burst into laughter. He grinned widely at her, absently thumbing at the pages of the book. As her chuckles subsided she realized that she’d never actually initiated a conversation with Killian, let alone one where she joked around with him. Suddenly feeling awkward she dropped her gaze to the note she’d written herself and tried to ignore the way she saw his shoulders slump out of the corner of her eye.

“Siege Perilous,” she muttered, carefully adding the title to her note just so she’d have something to do. She peeled off the Post-It and stuck it to her monitor, “Got it.”

“He should enjoy it-” she looked at him, confused for a moment until he clarified, “David. Don’t let the nautical themes put you off.”

“Right, thanks.”

She gave him a fleeting smile before turning back to her desk and made a show of throwing herself into her work. Nevermind that she’d already finished her assignment for the week. Cursing to herself she opened a new document and began typing nonsense until the feeling of him watching her subsided. She was highly annoyed when at the end of the day that all she’d accomplished was a page full of ridiculous phrases and the tiniest sliver of insight into the man she had to buy a gift for.

A week later she was no closer to narrowing down from over a dozen options. She knew she was way overthinking it and that if she asked Mary Margaret or Robin she’d have a gift purchased by the end of the day. Yet, somehow, she felt like that was cheating. It had become a challenge almost, the urge to crack the code to get her sworn enemy the perfect gift. Though, since their conversation about Edwin Stephens she’d let her guard down and had a few more surprising talks with Killian about the things they liked to do on their downtime. Which is how Emma found herself arguing with him over the best place to get pizza.

“Are you kidding? Their crust is garbage! The only good thing about that place is the sauce.”

“The sauce makes the pie, love,” he said vehemently. “Just because you prefer a paper thin crust doesn’t mean that every other option should automatically be disqualified in your book.”

She rolled her eyes, “Fine, I’ll give you that, I guess, but they don’t even deliver. Not even Postmates! How are they still in business when they’re missing out on all those potential customers?”

“Ah, so the truth emerges!” Killian said smugly as he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at her, “You probably don’t venture to eat anywhere that doesn’t have the option of showing up at your front door. Think of all the delicacies you’re missing out on, Swan!”

“I eat at places that don’t deliver. There’s a great Dominican place that’s a whole twenty minutes away from my apartment and I go there at least three times a month,” she shot back before realizing she’d revealed a part of her life she hadn’t meant to. She scrambled to keep him from thinking too deeply over it, “Besides you can’t say that Angelo’s is the best when you haven’t even tried Pizza on Fourth.”

“With such an uninspired name how can their fare be any good?” He scoffed. Then he hesitated, looking at her consideringly, “How about we put it to a test?”

“Meaning?” She asked warily.

“Do you have plans for lunch or vehement standards about eating the same thing twice in a day?” He asked, matching her wariness.

She blinked at him, “You want to see whose pizza place is better?”

“It’s the only way to know for sure,” he answered seriously, though she could see the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“For scientific purposes or bragging rights?”

“Bragging rights, of course,” he said with a wink.

Ignoring the small flutter in her stomach she pretended to mull it over, “Will there be a medal? A trophy perhaps?”

“How about a free lunch?”

“Deal!”

He chuckled, “Since Angelo’s is closer shall we get Pizza on Fourth delivered for lunch, then we can walk over to Angelo’s after work?”

“Sounds good to me,” she said happily, already opening the app to order. “Should we go with the classic pepperoni at both to keep it fair?”

“I like the way you think, love, and add on a round of garlic knots to really spice up the competition. Just let me know when you need my card.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, busy tapping away at the ordering options.

Later that night, with a lot of hedging and dragging her feet she admitted that Angelo’s was the better pizza. What she couldn’t seem to admit, even to herself, was that she’d had fun hanging out with Killian outside of work. She also toyed with and then dismissed the idea of getting him a giftcard to Pizza on Fourth just for the petty satisfaction.

Four days before Christmas and two before the company party Emma found herself wearily scrolling through article after article on Buzzfeed for any kind of inspiration for a gift. She felt as though she’d had a hundred ideas but none of them felt right. It didn’t help that every time her and Killian hung out that a dozen new options for a gift presented themselves.

“I don’t think he’d want a Tub Shroom, no matter how many people have given it five stars on Amazon.”

Emma groaned at the sound of Mary Margaret’s voice, dropping her forehead to her desk. She felt a gentle commiserating pat on her shoulder and rolled her head to look up at her.

“He’s impossible to shop for,” she whined. “Is it too late to switch with someone?”

“He is not and yes it is,” Mary Margaret tsked. “Unlike you everyone else doesn’t wait until the last minute to buy something.”

“It’s not the last minute. I still have two days,” she grumbled, pushing herself up only to slump down in her chair.

Mary Margaret frowned, “Which is not enough time for Amazon to send something. You’re making this harder than it has to be, especially if you hate the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” she mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I said-” she sighed and prepared herself for a torrent of ‘I told you so’s’ and squeals, “I don’t hate him. He’s actually a good guy.”

Mary Margaret smiled widely but surprised Emma by remaining calm, “Then it should be even easier to find something. Right?”

“That’s just it!” She huffed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “There’s too many options now that I’ve actually gotten to know him. I should just buy him the best bottle of rum twenty-five bucks can buy and be done with it.”

“Then why don’t you do that?” Mary Margaret asked puzzled, though her smile was still too wide for Emma’s liking.

“It’s so…” she cast about for the right word and nearly let out a frustrated growl when none came to her. “Generic, boring, thoughtless? I don’t know but I can do better.”

Mary Margaret laughed, “It’s not a competition. He’ll appreciate whatever you get him. Probably even more so now that you’re friends.”

Emma opened her mouth to refute the claim but found that she couldn’t. Since their impromptu pizza competition they’d gone to several more restaurants under the guise of deciding who had the better taste. Even more than that they’d also gone out for after work drinks a few times, talking about nothing and everything, and once she’d gone with him to a critics screening of a movie she’d been looking forward to seeing for months. That he’d been just as excited to see it and they’d spent hours dissecting it afterward at a twenty-four hour diner down the street from the theater only drove home the fact that he was, for lack of a better term, her friend. She tried to push down the sudden feeling of disappointment she felt at that.

“Ooo, Siege Perilous? Isn’t that the set you get to visit next month?”

Mary Margaret’s voice dragged her back to the discussion at hand. She nodded absently, “Yeah, they start filming after the holidays and it’s the only time they’re allowing reporters on set.”

“Lucky, David wouldn’t let me read anything else until I gave it a chance. I was annoyed at first but it’s really good. You should read it too, get ready for that set visit.”

“I should,” she said slowly, staring thoughtfully at the Post-It she hadn’t thought about since she’d stuck it to her monitor. An idea started to form in her mind and with it a realization. She looked up at Mary Margaret, “It’s totally a crush isn’t it?”

Mary Margaret’s smile somehow grew wider, “For him? Or for you?”

Emma surprised them both by smiling herself, “Is it okay if I skip out on our lunch? I’ll make it up to you.”

“Totally fine,” Mary Margaret said, waving her off. “I think I’ll go out to eat with Tink, she owes me.”

She barely paid attention as Mary Margaret left, already distracted by figuring out what she needed to do and how little time she had to do it.

Two days later, when Emma arrived at the restaurant that was hosting their company party it was already in full swing. She snuck Killian’s present onto the table that held the other gifts before weaving through her coworkers to get to the bar. When she got there she was pleased to see Killian already there, chatting with the bartender.

“Gonna buy me a drink, Jones?” she asked as she sidled up next to him and grinned.

“It’s an open bar, Swan, so I’d be delighted to,” he said with a grin of his own. Then his eyes widened and she watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, “You look-”

“I know,” she said demurely, pleased that her blush pink dress had made the impression she was going for. She turned to the bartender and ordered a glass of wine, conscious of his gaze lingering on her. When she was handed her glass she turned back to see him still staring at her, “I know I probably already asked this but you’re not flying home for Christmas?”

“Uh, no-” he blinked, shaking his head slightly. It seemed to clear his thoughts and he gave her a shrug, “Never had a place there to truly call home if I’m honest. I tend to fly wherever my brother Liam is stationed at the time but seeing as he’s doing the whole first holiday with his girlfriend and her parents I figured I’d stick it out here this year. It’ll just be me and a yet undecided Netflix marathon to celebrate. What about you, off to visit your own family tomorrow?”

“Oh, I, uh,” she stuttered, caught off guard by the suspicion that his past seemed to mirror hers. She took a sip of wine to fortify herself, “I don’t have a, uh, family. I usually sleep in and then watch Die Hard before going to Mary Margaret’s house for the day. Nothing too exciting.”

She took another sip of wine to cover what was sure to be an awkward moment between them. Killian was watching her with a look she couldn’t understand, not saying a word. Finally after a few seconds that felt like lifetimes she glared back.

“What?”

“Sorry, love,” he said sheepishly, a blush blooming in his cheeks. “It’s just… sometimes you’re quite the open book but then you’ll do or say something that surprises me. I never would have guessed- well, I knew there was something but I didn’t want to pry and it didn’t occur to me-”

“Killian-” she interrupted, grabbing his arm to stop his rambling. “It’s okay, you can say ‘orphan’. It’s not like you’re breaking a story I don’t already know.”

He let out a tense laugh, nervously scratching behind his ear, “Perhaps I didn’t want to say it because I loathe the moniker myself. Schoolyard taunts will do that to a lad.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She had gone through most of her life not having much in common with people because of how she had grown up without parents or even a stable home. It was almost ironic that she had been so determined to dislike Killian when he had more in common with her than she ever could have expected. A hiccuping laugh escaped her as she realized just how much she had grown to like him over the weeks since she’d drawn his name from Mary Margaret’s Santa hat.

“I propose a toast,” she said with a wide grin, lifting her glass, “To a couple of orphans not letting a little thing like that get us down.”

Killian gave her a soft smile, raising his glass to hers and tapping them together lightly, “To a couple of orphans.”

They drank, though neither of them took their eyes off of each other. Emma felt the warmth from the wine spreading down to her toes, though she could have also blamed the look in Killian’s eyes with having something to do with it. Just as she was about to comment on it and possibly ruining whatever it was that was growing between them the music that had been playing in the background cut out and Mary Margaret was calling for their attention.

“Merry Christmas everybody!” She chirped merrily. David was at her side with two wrapped presents in his hands, “It’s time to hand out the Secret Santa gifts so when you hear your name come on up!”

Emma felt a thrill of anticipation zip across her stomach. She turned towards Killian with what she hoped was a calm demeanor only to find that he was still looking at her with a gentle smile, not even paying attention to the names Mary Margaret was calling out.

“Not looking forward to your gift?” She prodded, worried that he’d already figured out that she was his Secret Santa.

“Oh, I’ve never signed up,” he said, giving a fleeting glance towards Mary Margaret before looking back at her. “The past couple years I was flying to England and missing this lovely party. By the time I had my plans settled for this year it was far too late to sign up.”

“Emma Swan.”

Emma stared at him uncomprehendingly. She knew she had pulled his name, for one it wasn’t like anyone else in their office had the name Killian even though Jones was pretty common and for another she’d stared at the slip of paper for at least an hour when she’d gotten home the night she’d drawn it, willing it to be any name other than his. The only logical explanation was that he’d signed up and forgotten.

“Emma Swan?”

Killian’s gaze darted away and then back to her, “Er, Swan?”

“You forgot,” she blurted out. “You signed up and forgot. Right?”

“No,” he said slowly. “You know how tenacious Mary Margaret is about making sure everyone remembers their gift. I’ve never done it and still know what a terror she can be.”

With a dawning horror she realized exactly how much of a terror Mary Margaret could be.

“Has anyone seen Emma?”

Killian tilted his head towards the front of the room, “I believe you’ve been summoned for your own gift, love.”

“Yep,” she ground out, narrowing her gaze at Mary Margaret who was scanning the crowd for her. With extreme care she set down her wine glass, afraid she would shatter it in her anger, “Just going to go get my gift now.”

Wasting no time she stormed to the front of the room, pushing past everyone and ignoring their grumbles in her wake. Mary Margaret beamed when she caught sight of her but it quickly turned sheepish as Emma got closer. By the time Emma made it to her she was already whispering a rushed explanation.

“-sorry but you would barely give him the time of day and he’s really a great guy. I figured if you had to get him a gift you’d get to know him and see that he’s not actually terrible. And it worked! You’re friends now.”

Emma felt her anger leave her in a rush at Mary Margaret’s sincerity and the ridiculous lengths she’d gone to. It helped that she was right, even though Emma would never admit it to her.

“What if I had just bought him a Starbucks gift card and been done with it?” She asked with feigned annoyance, wanting to know just how invested Mary Margaret was in her scheme.

Mary Magaret scoffed, “I knew you wouldn’t do that. You complained about him too much to get him something that boring. I knew you’d use your gift as a way to prove something.”

She gaped at her, surprised by the confidence she’d had in her plan. Then a thought occurred to her, “You wouldn’t let me repick because every name in that hat was his wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” Mary Margaret grinned. “And don’t worry about someone else getting left out. I kept your name out of the main draw to keep things even.”

“Then how do I have a present?” She asked, bewildered.

“Santa works in mysterious ways,” Mary Margaret said cryptically, still grinning like a fool. She plucked a green bag, its handles tied together with a length of red ribbon, from the table, “Here you go.”

Emma took it in one hand and held out the other, “Can I at least give Killian his gift myself? I don’t want him making a big deal about how he didn’t sign up and embarrassing us both.”

“Can’t-” Mary Margaret frowned dramatically, though her eyes were alight with mischief, “I sent David to give it to him when I first called your name.”

Sure enough, when Emma looked back at Killian he was trying to keep David from handing him the present Emma had brought. Giving Mary Margaret a withering look she hightailed it back to the bar before anyone else’s attention was grabbed by the escalating argument between the two men. She arrived as David pushed the wrapped box into Killian’s hands.

“Just take the present, man. It’s got your name on it so it has to be yours.”

“And I’m telling you there’s a mistake, mate,” Killian bit out, refusing to hold onto the box. “I didn’t participate in Secret Santa.”

“I got it David,” she broke in, grabbing the gift and stepping between them. “Tell Mary Margaret she still owes me answers.”

David looked at her apologetically, “I really tried to talk her out of it.”

“And yet you’re still her accomplice,” she pointed out. David gave her the same sheepish grin his wife had and she shook her head at him, “You’re both getting coal for Christmas.”

“Bah humbug,” David said cheerfully before giving her a hug and disappearing in the crowd.

“So that charming gentleman is Mary Margaret’s husband?” Killian intoned bemused behind her.

“The one and only,” she said, thinking about how she could cheerfully strangle the couple with tinsel for all their scheming. She placed both his and her presents on the bar and faced him, “They’ve been together since their freshman year of college and are really bad influences on each other. I sometimes have to remind myself that David’s a cop when he gets caught up in one of Mary Margaret’s grand plans.”

Killian’s eyes went wide, “Oh? And what was her grand plan tonight?”

“Well, it looks like you getting a present would be part of it,” she hedged, not ready for him to hear Mary Margaret’s true motivation.

“So it would seem,” he said thoughtfully, tracing the gift tag on his present with his finger. Then he frowned and pushed her gift towards her, “You should do the honors first, love, since you were actually expecting a gift.”

“Yeah?” She asked, relieved that she could put off an explanation for a few more minutes and highly curious what Mary Margaret’s Santa comment meant.

Killian nodded and said softly, “Go ahead, Swan.”

The tag attached to the ribbon gave her no clues since it was a square of paper with her name printed on it and aside from the ribbon holding the bag closed there were no other adornments. The ribbon was tied in a simple bow and with a gentle tug it came undone. When she pulled out her gift she couldn’t help but laugh at the copy of Siege Perilous in her hand.

“Mary Margaret was in a tither in the breakroom last week,” Killian murmured, keeping his gaze on the book when she looked up at him, “She was going on about how the person who had picked your name had quit unexpectedly and that she needed to find someone to replace them. I volunteered, of course.”

“Of course?” She breathed.

He gave her a lopsided smile, “It’s no secret that I quite fancy you when you’re not yelling at me.”

She felt the warmth of a blush in her cheeks and dropped her gaze to the book, running her hand over the cover, “Why get me this, though?”

“You were so skittish when we first talked about it and when you kept the note on your monitor I realized you never intended it as a gift for David. I overheard you telling Mary Margaret that you would be visiting the set of the new show but felt guilty about never having read the book. It seemed to me that getting you the book was rather fitting on all accounts.”

Looking back up at him she felt a swooping in her stomach as her eyes met his. He was still smiling at her but she could sense his nervousness at her reaction to his gift and his confession in the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot and scratched behind his ear. It was his nervousness that gave her the courage she needed to lay her own feelings on the line.

“It’s your turn to open your present,” she stated, nudging the wrapped box with her new book.

He looked askance at it, “It has to be a mistake and I don’t want to open a gift intended for someone else.”

“It’s part of Mary Margaret’s plan, remember? So you should open it,” she encouraged.

“Fine,” Killian sighed, picking up the wrapped box, “But I’d feel better about it if I knew what her plan was. Though you seem to have it all figured out.”

Emma kept quiet wanting to explain everything once he’d opened his gift. He waited for a moment, watching her, before shaking his head and focusing on picking at the tape holding the wrapping paper together. She bit her tongue at his fastidiousness, glad that she hadn’t used more than a few pieces of tape for the whole thing. Finally he pulled the paper off, without a single tear, and opened the box only to go absolutely still as he stared down at the present inside. Glancing up at her with a perplexed look he reached into the box and pulled out the hardback copy of Siege Perilous she’d luckily found at the small bookstore near their office.

“I know the one you have now probably has a few read throughs left before it completely falls apart but I figured you’d want a pristine copy for next month.”

“You bought me-” his gaze darted from hers to the book and back, his confusion easy to see, “Why would you- no, wait, what’s happening next month?”

“Mary Margaret thought that I wasn’t giving you a fair chance, which I wasn’t,” she started, ignoring his last question for the moment, knowing that she had to explain the whys first. “It was mostly me judging you off of my first impression of you and what I’d seen when you first got hired and not by actually taking the time to know you.”

“What _was_ your impression of me, Swan? It must have been not very favorable for you to not have warmed up to me until recently.”

"I, uh,-" she felt herself flush and she only grew warmer in her embarrassment when he noticed and leaned closer. Rolling her eyes she huffed, "To be fair you flirt with everyone and there were a lot of women you left the office with when you first got hired."

"Were you… were you _jealous_ , Swan?" He asked incredulously.

“No, not jealous.” she contested hotly. “I thought you were making the rounds and I’d been cheated on by my last boyfriend with our former editor. I didn’t need to be a notch in someone else’s belt and I really didn’t want to be the focus of office drama again.”

Killian’s demeanor fell but she saw no pity in his gaze, “Oh, Swan, I didn’t know.”

“It is what it is,” she said with a shrug, “The gossip had finally stopped by the time you were hired and I wasn’t going to bring it all back up again with someone I thought was the same type of guy. Though I know now I was completely wrong about that.”

“You truly didn't know, Emma?” He asked so softly she could barely hear him over the music that had started back up.

“Know what?”

He grabbed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles as he held her gaze, soft and sincere, “You saw me chatting and going places with those women because I didn’t know a soul when I first moved here. I never led them on or asked for anything more than camaraderie while I got settled because it’s only ever been you.

"I first saw you by chance, you walked by in the background in my last Skype interview and I was smitten. Of course when I was hired and you rebuffed me while others were clamoring for my attention I was intrigued. Then we became desk neighbors and I got to know you, one small piece at a time, and I fell. For you. And then with these past few weeks of going for meals and drinks, talking for hours with you I began to think, even hope, that perhaps you might be beginning to feel the same.”

As much as she’d had an idea that he liked her, as well as been told numerous times by multiple people, hearing him say it out loud was like hearing it for the first time. In a way it was because there was a small part of her that couldn’t believe it wasn’t another conjecture of the office rumor mill. She felt her cheeks begin to ache and realized she had been grinning at him like a fool but had yet to address how she actually felt about him.

“I was really annoyed when I picked your name-” Killian winced and tried to take his hand from hers but she held fast, “and Mary Margaret wouldn’t let me switch and now I know it’s because she rigged it so it was only your name in the hat. So I was stuck with having to get you a present and practically knowing nothing about you. When we talked about Stephens I realized that it was the first time we’d had a whole conversation. Then we just kept talking and you were nothing like I’d believed you were and I liked spending time with you. Really liked spending time with you.

“The thing was I kept telling myself that I was only hanging out with you because I needed to figure out what gift to get you and it was impossible. I wanted to get you a perfect gift, something that was thoughtful and that you’d really appreciate. When I complained to Mary Margaret about it I realized why I wanted my gift to be perfect.”

“And why was that, love?” He asked hopefully.

“Because I fell,” she said simply. “For You.”

Killian beamed at her before swooping down to capture her lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss. She sighed into him, reveling in the warmth of him encompassing her as his arms wrapped around her. All too soon for her liking he pulled back, resting his forehead on hers with his eyes closed.

“One more thing,” she whispered, playing with the soft hair at the back of his head.

His eyes opened and he leaned back, looking at her quizzically, “What’s that, love?”

She grinned at the pet name she’d practically ignored before, “How good of a photographer are you?”

“Fair enough to keep things in focus. Why?”

“Because the other part of your gift is that you’re going to pretend to be one of our photographers so you can come to the Siege Perilous set visit with me. Edwin Stephens will be there too and I thought you’d like to get an autogra-”

Emma squealed as Killian picked her up and twirled her around. When he finally set her down she paid no mind to the stares that they’d surely attracted and pulled him into a kiss far more passionate than the one he’d given her.

Much later, after they’d allowed Mary Margaret a moment of smug elation and left the party to a couple of whistles courtesy of Tink and Robin they were laying in her bed, sweatpant clad legs entwined. Killian was running his fingers through her hair as she laid curled against his chest, listening to the rumble of his voice as he read Siege Perilous to her. With a contented sigh she figured that maybe Mary Margaret didn't quite deserve that lump of coal she'd threatened her with.


End file.
